


Mourning, Sunshine

by chanchan46



Category: Black Panther (2018), Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Spoilers, Bottom Steve, Drinking, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Multi, Oral Sex, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, PWP, Past Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, Past Steve Rogers/Tony Stark, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Protective Thor (Marvel), Romance, Rough Sex, Steve Feels, Steve Rogers & Thor Friendship, Steve Rogers Feels, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Thor is living sunshine, Top Thor (Marvel), implied/referenced thorki, plot if you squint, they're bros
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-29
Updated: 2018-05-29
Packaged: 2019-05-15 17:23:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14794749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chanchan46/pseuds/chanchan46
Summary: Steve deals with the aftermath of losing to Thanos and shares a drink with Thor in the process. (The porn is in the second chapter, spoiler free)





	Mourning, Sunshine

**Author's Note:**

> A gift for a friend.

     The dust settles, the dead are collected by battered survivors and the missing are counted, as best they can be. Wakanda mours the loss of their king, their people. Steve is sure the entire universe is in a similar state as the city sprawling below him, and he can hear the unfamiliar sounds of ritual for the dead down below, pricks of firelight replacing the quickly fading sun. Steve doesn't know a lot about Wakanda or its people, but he understands loss. Understands that tonight, the world needs to grieve. Even his team is scattered, each with the promise of revenge, of turning this around somehow, but tonight all they can do is rest. There's a pang in his chest when he revisits the aftermath of Thanos, sharp and hot. Mothers weeping in the street for lost children, pairs of lovers left mismatched and Steve has seen more than a few men who have lost their partners and every child between them. The people come together, support one another, but Steve craves isolation and he retreats to his apartment in the palace, staying respectfully out of the way to lick his own wounds. He knows that when dawn breaks his own team will be ready to regroup, and they need to incorporate the guardians and find the rest of the Avengers, if anyone is left.

     He sighs, nothing but a wisp of air as he remembers Bucky, calling his name for the last time, questioning, fearful as he fucking disintegrated into nothing. They hadn't had time, that first night in Wakanda, everything so quick and hurried but they needed to feel one another, alive and present in the moment. Bucky hadn't asked any questions then, and Steve was grateful because he didn't think he had answers to give. He wonders if Tony has met the same fate. When a mournful cry from an unseen bird breaks him from his thoughts, he turns from where his hands have been gripping the polished wood of the balcony railing and pads inside, bare feet soft on the cool floor. If his cheeks are damp he pretends not to notice. The bedroom is, in its own right, ridiculous and Steve scoffs at the sight of it, suddenly resentful of the luxury. Large tapestries in colorful fabrics cover most of the walls, huge four post bed piled high with a seductive centerpiece to the otherwise bare room, save for a wardrobe and vanity to one side. The bed is made, better than Steve can do himself with the multitude of pillows and he supposes that the maids have been in, today of all days. The amount of precious metal inlay in the room's fixtures further highlights the vibrancy and Steve wonders vaguely if these things were older than even he, cared for diligently but antique in nature. More luxurious than he would have ever dreamed of even seeing in his lifetime, much less living in for the past few years. Steve had been waiting for Bucky to heal, not planning beyond that because then it was enough. They could be enough. There had been work in those years and he had seen even less of Wakanda, less of Bucky than he had hoped but the aftermath of Tony and the Winter Solider- Steve shakes the thoughts away for another time. Personal problems didn't matter now, not with half of the entire universe crumpling away into nothingness.

     He eyes the bar cart in the far corner of the room, still fully stocked from when Steve had first arrived, stammering that he didn't drink, not since he had lived in the tower with his team and they'd gathered on off nights to be social. T'challa had laughed then, loud and echoing in the large room. A beautiful sound, and Steve,s cheeks were pink when Wakanda's king had clapped him on the shoulder and told him to ring for a maid should he need anything during his indefinite stay with them, leaving then for his own chambers. Steve had felt so out of place, but then again he's never truly belonged anywhere except Brooklyn, in their shitty little one bedroom, drafty in the winter and boiling in the summer. It was god awful but he was home then, home with Bucky and they were relatively safe, quiet but together and that was enough. Until Bucky fell, and Steve lost him forever.  
     

     He ends up in the bathroom, just as large and absurd as the rest of his rooms, marble counters and fixtures in a matching metal. He doesn't ponder for long, raking blunt nails through the beard he'd been growing. Steve frowns at his reflection. He looks rough, older, frayed around the edges. He drinks directly from the bottle he's brought in with him, three of its siblings already in the bin by the door. He sets the offensively orange bottle next to the sink a little too hard. He belonged in the Avengers tower, too. Had learned to live in a new world, with new friends and a new life. A second chance. He smiles at himself in the mirror and knows from his reflection's broken eyes that this is not the road he should be revisiting, that this particular trip down memory lane isn't a fruitful one but he doesn't care. Not tonight. He hits the bottom of the bottle with two more swigs, tosses it into the bin and when it shatters he goes for the shaving kit situated in the top drawer.

  
     Steve is, for the most part at least decently buzzed by the time his face is smooth once again, and he runs the pads of his fingers over fresh skin. The sensation is so familiar to him, something Bucky used to do after he had started shaving and then Tony so recently until- Steve shakes his head, opting not to think about the fallout. He's emptied the cart before he allows himself to really relax, sprawling ungracefully over the overstuffed couch in the living room. He knows the effects of the alcohol won't last, and he intends to get his wallowing out of the way before it fades from him entirely and he's left without an opportunity for catharsis. The delicate taste of citrus and cream coating the back of his tongue takes him to their old apartment, back to when Bucky was bigger than him and still called him Stevie.

  
_"I brought you a present." Bucky is beaming down at him, radiant, standing over Steve and his sketch pad holding a brown bag formed around something that looks suspiciously like a bottle. Steve grins then, setting aside his art supplies and meets Bucky's eyes, mischievous. "Orange and cream liquor." Bucky says the last word with too much flare, and Steve laughs, stands and accepts the gift from his best friend. He can't hide his blush when Bucky ruffles his hair, and they spend most of the night on the floor leaned against Steve's bed, trading sweet orange kisses before they become more than friends, before Steve knows for sure that he's in love so deep he'll never come up for air, dangerous as it was._   


     He huffs at the memory, dredged up from so long ago, before the ice and the serum and the fucking war- he's bitter still, he knows it isn't healthy, has been told by his therapist that he needs to work through those memories before he can fully embrace his new life as part of the Avengers. He snorts at the thought of having a therapist at this point. There's another pang, deeper in his chest and it twists down into Steve's stomach when he thinks of his new old home. The floor in what used to be Stark Tower before Tony had it renovated it for the six of them and he remembers the day Tony gave him the walk through of his new home (pad, Tony had called it) and Steve laughs despite himself. Cooperation with Tony had been hard won, his friendship even harder. He hooks a leg over the back of the sofa and lets himself fall into the memory, another lifetime ago. Steve wonders vaguely how many lives he has left.

  
    _Tony finishes his tour, talking excitedly to Steve about upgrades and how J.A.R.V.I.S. can attend to anything that Steve may need assistance with, eyes bright with pride for his AI and Steve offers him a smile although he has so many questions about this new technology that he doesn't bother to ask anymore, just runs with it. Fake it til you make it, someone had said to him. It may have been Tony. The smaller man turns on his heel, facing Steve and smiles, a rare genuine expression of happiness as he invites Steve to a common floor to have a few drinks with the rest of the team and get settled with one another in a more casual setting. Steve accepts though he usually doesn't drink, hasn't in quite a long while, mostly because of the serum. They ride in the elevator together, Tony still talking about his newest creations and it strikes Steve then how beautiful he is in that moment, so bright and it makes his heat swell and ache at the same time. He had not considered there would ever be anyone else after Bucky had been taken from him._  
 _The change in Steve goes largely unnoticed by Tony as he steps out of the little box to greet the rest of the team, already relaxed in their places scattered around the room. Even Thor is in attendance, glass mug of some dark beer in one hand and clapping Bruce on the shoulder with the other, both of them laughing. Bruce looks so young when he laughs. It makes Steve happy, fills him in a way that he hasn't been since he was just a kid in Brooklyn and the thinks that yes, these people can be his family, his friends. He doesn't need to live in the past and he knows Bucky used to hate when he would get stuck inside his own head. The evening passes quickly, almost too much so and when his friends start falling off one by one to sleep off their merriment, Steve has a gentle buzz after sampling some what was contained in Thor's flask. He's not surprised when Thor takes his leave and he and Tony are the only two left, Steve doesn't require as much sleep and he knows Tony stays up until he'll finally crash._  
 _They eventually make it up to the roof, air clear above the city lights and their legs dangle easily over the ledge, bottle between them starting to sweat in the warmth of the night. They talk for hours, and when Tony finally grows lazy enough - comfortable enough to lean against Steve's side in a liquid heat sort of way Steve takes another chance with Tony Stark and wraps his arm around the smaller man's shoulders, shielding him from the world. He feels guilty, deep in his stomach below the butterflies when he kisses Tony and Tony kisses him back, feeling so much like he was being unfaithful to Bucky but he shoves it away. Bucky had been gone for a long time and Tony deserves better than to contend with a dead man._

  
     Steve lets the tears fall freely then, so hot and then cold, icy, running around the shell of his ear and into the fabric that he's sure costs more than he cares to think about at the moment. He knows his personal life has no place in this universal disaster, but he's allowed tonight. Bucky had fallen back into his life so suddenly, so impossibly that Steve had panicked the first time, those black goggles flying off the Winter Solider and it was Bucky. These memories come faster, more recent and the proverbial film reel grinds to a halt when Tony's eyes are on him, expression steely but Steve can see him splinter underneath, and heartbreak had never been so beautiful. "So was I." He doesn't think he'll ever forget that, when the final rug was ripped from under him. He should know better than to have his cake and eat it too. It was wrong to try and love them both, and he knows that. Just wishes things could have been different, could have worked in a way that they could move forward, together. Steve scoffs and tosses the second empty orange bottle away, landing with a loud CLANG in the bin with the others. Steve hopes it has shattered as well.

  
     He isn't surprised to find that he is mostly unaffected when he stands, and for not the last time he curses his overactive metabolism. He can't even drown himself in drink like a normal person. He decides that he needs some fresh air, the room suddenly becoming too small for him, too stifling. He is surprised when he pulls the door open to find Thor, fist poised to knock at his door. "Ah, friend Steve!" Thor beams at him, smile bright in the last fading rays of sun, and Steve can't explain why he's so happy to see the god of thunder. Perhaps its the affirmation that some of his friends are still alive, still with him. That he isn't alone. "The palace maids kindly directed me to your chambers. Care to share a drink with me?" At that Thor holds a large flask up to Steve in offereing. Steve recognizes the gleaming metal from all that time ago.

     Steve steps aside wordlessly to allow Thor access, closing the door behind the other man before Thor is eyeing the empty bottles still arranged neatly on the cart, the three broken ones in the bin. He laughs then, a whole, bright thing and it fills the room, pushing away the gloom Steve had stuffed it with minutes before. Thor makes his way to the balcony doors, throws them open without being asked and lets the new night in. Steve joins him, leaning against the thick railing for the second time that evening, watching Thor watch the city. Thor sighs, soft and long and Steve feels the pressure of so many years come away from him. Thor doesn't wallow, not like Steve had. He'd mourned his family, his people and vowed to undo the destruction of Thanos. Steve wishes he was that simple.

     They make small talk for a few minutes, catching up on the last few years that Thor has been in Asgard and Nowhere, everywhere in between, about Dr. Strange and Bruce and the Guardian's talking rabbit, which he adores. Steve offers a smile without teeth. It doesn't reach his eyes. "Tiny thing, loves to steal shiny objects. Reminds me a lot of Loki." There is a sadness in his eyes then, one that Steve knows intimately. The relationship between Thor and his brother is complex he knows, but the glint in Thor's eyes tell him something more, something maybe he isn't supposed to see. It leaves his as quickly as it had come, and he claps Steve's shoulder hard enough to shake him a little, a friendly touch from Thor that Steve thinks may have crippled anyone else.

     "I'm sorry." Steve says simply, blandly because what else are you supposed to say to the god of thunder after he'd lost literally everything? Thor only smiles at him, real and shining. His hand falls away and Thor turns to look over the dark jungle. Steve misses the weight of it.

     "He died a warriors death. Valhalla awaits." Thor is relaxed, taking a swig from his flash, silver glinting in the moonlight before he passes it to Steve, who examines the emerald inlay. Thor must notice his curiosity because he offers "A gift, from Loki. The only one he ever gave me that didn't have some kind of curse attached that I had to puzzle a solution for." and Steve drinks, no longer suspicious of the delicate looking flask. They pass it between them, trading stories of happier times and Steve's belly burns warm with the never ending Asgardian mead and his own laughter as Thor tells him of the time he was stabbed by a seemingly innocent looking snake.

     Steve huffs another breathless laugh, happy tears pricking at the corners of his eyes as he asks why Thor was handling dangerous reptiles at only eight years old and then he supposes that it must be an Asgardian thing. They talk for a long while, bumping shoulders and leaning heavily on the railing and one another. Steve vaguely wonders how the flask isn't empty at this point. Thor chuckles and Steve realizes that he must have been thinking aloud. "Enchanted to be infinitely filled with my favorite mead." Thor's smile reaches his eyes now. "A gift for my first hunt alone." Steve smiles himself, impossible to resist the radiance coming off of Thor in waves and he supposes that Loki wasn't totally evil. "I am sorry, Steve." Thor's voice is lower now, humble as he goes on. "Your friend with the metal arm, your lover was he not?" and Steve is crimson, the flush creeping down his chest as Thor laughs again, whole and hearty. "There is nothing shameful about having a lover, Steve. If it is any comfort, Valhalla awaits him as well." Thor's eyes are kind when he runs calloused fingers over Steve's newly smooth jaw, a casual motion for the other man. "Didn't care for the?" Thor motions to his own short beard, fingers falling away and Steve wants him to touch, to keep touching and he scolds himself for the thought.

     "Just felt it was time for a change I guess." Steve offers, and the redness in his cheeks doesn't recede. He meets Thor's mismatched eyes and the mead is heavy in his belly, a different kind of warmth there that isn't the alcohol. Thor just smiles, taking a long draft that rightfully should have drained the small container, but as promised the drink flows freely as he takes it over once again. He notices Thor still watching him as he peers over the treeline, darkness obscuring shapes into nothing but black blobs.

     A weight settles around his shoulders and Thor is pulling him close, under his wing, a steady comfort from the man who has lost everything. Steve can't help but feel guilty for accepting it. "We will get them back." Is all Thor says and Steve doesn't know how, doesn't have any remote inklings of a plan to reverse this spectacle and he sighs, leaning more on Thor's optimism than he intends to. The other man is a solid warmth against him, almost all encompassing and maybe Steve appreciates the grip more than he should. He lets Thor hold him there, grounded.  



End file.
